Page 100 of Roulette Rodeo
We stay frozen for a moment, both panting, the bathroom silent except for our harsh breathing. Then Shiloh mutters that he’s gonna get a washcloth to help clean me up, which is another addition to the surprising acts she thought an Alpha would ever do for their Omega, but here he is, proving otherwise. Returning with a washcloth to clean me gently, carefully, like I might break, I take inventory.Sore, definitely.There's an ache between my legs that speaks of change, of before and after. But also sated in a way I didn't know was possible, loose-limbed and content.
“You sure you’re okay?” He quietly ends up asking, clearly taking in the miniature blood fest happening down under. I try not to peer down there, really. Almost like an avoidance. Maybe I’m mentally having a moment of silence.
Mourning the loss of my virginity at my age would probably be deemed lame if any Omega heard about it, but to me, this feels like such an accomplishment.
"More than okay," I tell him honestly.
He helps me sit up, encouraging me to shower, or better yet, soak in a new bath just to ease the soreness. It’s so considerate, I’m trying hard not to actually cry for even the consideration, knowing I wouldn’t get this anywhere else.
"Thank you," I whisper tenderly.
"For what?" He's running the washcloth over my skin, tender as any lover.
"For making it good. For letting it be mine."
He pauses, meeting my eyes with an expression so soft it makes my throat tight.
"Always," he says simply. "Anything you want to be yours will be yours. All the firsts you’ve yet to experience, we’ll just have to make it our mission for you to experience. Safely, with no amount of fear or judgment. That's a promise."
I believe him.
After three years of lies and manipulation, I believe this scarred soldier who's looking at me like I hung the moon.
Like I'm worth promises and gentleness and sparkly nail polish.
"Now," he says, that teasing glint returning to his eyes. "Let's get you cleaned up and have me change the sheets so you can paint those toenails. I'm voting for the sparkly one."
I laugh, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep and genuine.
"The sparkly one it is," I say, still laughing, but my stomach picks that exact moment to bellow like a dying whale. The sound is so loud and so rude that even the bathroom acoustics can't soften the blow. Shiloh quirks his eyebrow with a look that says he definitely heard it, and maybe even mistook it for my post-coital death rattle.
"Jesus," he says. "Was that you or the pipes?"
"Don't be mean, they're twins," I shoot back, rolling my eyes. But I know I can't hide the way I instantly flush scarlet. I am mortified and also, somehow, ferociously hungry all at once.
Instead of teasing me, though, Shiloh just lets out this low, almost affectionate chuckle. "Should've known you’d be starving. I forgot how much… you burn through."
I stick out my tongue at him, but I can't actually argue. I can feel the hollow in my belly, the deep and ancient demand for calories that comes after an adrenaline spike—or a really good fuck, I guess. The idea that sex could make a person this hungry feels unfair, like nature is doubling down on the embarrassment.
“Fuck. I forgot to feed you,” he mutters, and there’s a thread of real worry in his voice. "I'm an animal."
I snicker, finding more joy in him calling himself out than any apology. "Considering you just knotted me like a prize stallion, I think the animal comparison stands."
He pulls a face, which is honestly delicious. If he had a tail, it would be tucked between his legs right now. "Yeah, well. Still. Should’ve planned ahead."
"Don’t worry, I won’t tell the others so you don’t get in trouble," I say, feigning solemnity, even crossing my heart like an old-timey movie starlet. "Your secret’s safe with me."
He groans, head falling forward, but I can see his mouth twitching with a smile. The flush that started on his neck is now creeping up to his ears. For a giant, emotionally constipated ex-sniper, Shiloh blushes beautifully.
"So what’s the protocol here?" I ask. "Do we order pizza or is this a room service moment?"
His laugh comes out more like a bark. "Room service? On a ranch? What do you think this is, the Omega Four Seasons?"
I narrow my eyes, pretending to ponder the question deeply. "I mean, there are enough men in plaid flannel around here that it’s basically a themed resort."
Shiloh shrugs, conceding the point. "Fair."
"Is this the part where you bring me breakfast in bed?" I press, mostly joking but kind of hoping. "Because I always thought that was a thing, after… you know."
